


Second Chance

by Teharissa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Dancing in the Rain, Gen, Getting Back Together, Idiots in Love, Lithuana and Poland are trying, Lovers to Enemies to Uncertain Acquaintances to Friends to Lovers Again, M/M, Modern Era, Nostalgia, Other, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Rain, Referenced Angst, Vague mentions of historical events, post breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-22 08:44:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21073286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teharissa/pseuds/Teharissa
Summary: Tolys wouldn’t say that he had ever stopped loving Feliks. Even through the hatred that he used to have, even in their broken past, some part of him wished desperately to be by Feliks’ side. But things had changed. Too much had happened. And Tolys had gotten over it.Or so he thought, until one particular day in England, after a painful and chaotic world meeting, he forgets his umbrella and finds himself soaking wet and laughing beside a carefree Feliks.The past is the past. What’s done is done. And maybe...just maybe...Tolys and Feliks could have their second chance.





	Second Chance

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Hetalia.

His head throbbed, an insistent ache that only just now began to cease, now that the nations had dispersed and the meeting had adjourned for the day. Little had been accomplished--as usual--and the yelling and chaos would simply resume tomorrow, on the off chance that they would get anything done.

Tolys attributed his foul mood to that, the pain in his skull, and the reminiscent irritation at the other nations. It was a mood not helped by a glimpse outside the large windows of the conference building, a glimpse observing not only the city of London, but the rain produced from the foreboding gray clouds ahead.

Right. Of course this goddamn meeting had to be in England of all places. His hotel was only a few blocks from here, but still, it was of little help to his increasingly lowering mood to see the droplets of rain pounding upon the window and remind him with great insistence that he left his umbrella at home. In the background, as he closed his eyes and attempted to calm himself--not so much for anyone else’s sake, for Tolys would never lash out, not in such a setting, but rather just for his own wellbeing--he could hear the faint sounds of other nations who hadn’t left the building. He could vaguely hear Heracles snoring on a sofa, and the insistence of Arthur that Yao just accept his goddamn umbrella and stop holding such a petty grudge.

All of it was stupid. Completely and utterly stupid. Tolys could feel a vein in his forehead throb, but still he forced himself to take deep, calming breaths and--

“Liet!”

There was a hand clap on his shoulder, and Tolys didn’t have to look to know exactly who was there--an image of rye fields and a history of blood came to mind, as well as perfect, green eyes.

“What do you want, Poland?” Tolys asked, exasperated. He wasn’t in the mood--Feliks, of all the countries he could handle, was perhaps the most difficult. They’d been doing better, recently, at least. The past centuries had worn on them, had damaged them in ways that nothing else could, but now they could stand together again, without hatred or bloodshed.

Now, they could stand as equals. Though it didn’t help that through it all, that through everything that had transpired, the first thing to come to mind when he thought of Poland was of horseback riding in fields and forests, and soft kisses exchanged away from their royal leaders.

The mixed history, the mixed feelings that Tolys held for Feliks, served only to dampen his mood. He loved Feliks--he really did, had for centuries, had even when he’d hated him at the same time--but he was not ready to face his feelings, nor was he ready to deal with someone who made every emotion feel so much deeper.

“I don’t want anything, not really,” Feliks blew him a raspberry, in typical Feliks fashion, “But I think we’re staying at the same hotel, and if you want to walk together, I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

Tolys fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Why not take a taxi?”

“It’s only two blocks,” Feliks looked at him, coy, “What, can’t even walk that far?”

“It’s raining,” Tolys said, by way of an excuse. His headache wasn’t faring much better, and looking at Feliks only made it feel more prominent. He didn’t need this--not right now.

“So?”

“So,” Tolys emphasized, “I didn’t bring an umbrella. And I doubt you will share.”

Feliks might have, in the past. If so much hadn’t happened. Maybe, if they still were so close, maybe if Feliks hadn’t done what he did, if only _Tolys_ hadn’t done what he did--

“I would if I brought one,” Feliks pouted, “C’mon Liet. It’s just a little rain. We’ve faced worse.”

A lot worse. They had faced each other.

Tolys closed his eyes again. The look Feliks was giving him, one of his trademark pouts, with widened eyes and his lips pulled forward just slightly--it was difficult to look at without memories flooding of another time. It was difficult to look at, because it was so Feliks and by god, Tolys never really had been able to say no to Feliks, not in person, not even in their worst moments.

He’d been able to hate Feliks, but never able to say no to him.

“Fine. But for the record, I was not wanting to go--”

Feliks looped an arm through Tolys’. It was such a meaningless gesture. Friends did it all the time; Tolys couldn’t help but stiffen at it. Feliks had to have noticed, but if he did, he didn’t show it. Distantly, Tolys realized Yao and Arthur must have left, for the only people left in the lobby were he, Feliks, and a still sleeping Heracles.

“Ready?” Feliks asked, brightly, though somewhere behind the expression Tolys could see a reflection of his own unease. This was not new. But it was, at the same time, and Tolys couldn’t bring himself to smile back, if only for the rush of feelings that swept through him.

“Y-yeah,” Tolys said, “We can go, now.”

Feliks nodded, pulling Tolys with him towards the door and without hesitation, throwing it open. Almost immediately, with barely a step taken out of the warm office building, there was a rush of cold and water. Tolys recoiled out of instinct, though after another minute he loosened again. He’d never really liked rain, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

Feliks was quite the opposite—the moment the rain hit his face, matting his hair and dampening his clothes, he really came alive. There was a smile—small, smaller than most had come to expect of Feliks, but more genuine. It was a pretty smile. Tolys couldn’t help but stare, not even realizing they’d begun to walk, simply looking at Feliks in the rain.

Cute.

The thought sprang out of nowhere, and Tolys shook his head. No. He would not allow that line of thought, it hardly mattered that he still loved Feliks, it was over. He wouldn’t let himself to indulge in small moments, lest he tempt himself.

It wasn’t like Feliks had any idea how much that small smile affected him, though, and he continued to make it--though eventually he tugged away from Tolys’ arm, a warmth that he wished he didn’t miss, and began to skip. It was embarrassing to be seen like this, accompanying a fully grown man skipping as if he were a preschooler. But. It was endearing. Sweet.

Damn Feliks, and his way of making everything adorable. Damn Feliks and the stupid complicated past that they had.

Tolys could only watch as Feliks got too excited, stomping in puddles with reckless, childlike abandon, and drawing the stares of appalled and disgruntled passerby. He must be nervous--Tolys knew, that despite his exterior, Feliks was anxiety prone. His way of coping was simply to be flamboyant. But for the moment at least, aside from the anxiety he must be facing, he let himself dance through the raindrops, only increasing the gestures of his movements the more people stared.

And for Tolys’ part, watching Feliks spin for a moment, before letting out a little giggle. It was a soft sound, barely heard in the weather and at even the short distance of a meter, but still Tolys couldn’t help but crack a smile, couldn’t help but feel the walls of his heart crumble at the sound. It was beautiful, sweet. It felt like home.

It felt like what home used to be.

And after a moment, Tolys laughed too--covering his mouth with one hand as to not attract too much attention. Feliks noticed. Of course he did. He was observant when he wanted to be, and it wasn’t like Tolys was trying to hide it. It was impossible to miss the darting look of surprise that decorated Feliks’ face, further proof of just how strained their relationship had been, before Feliks smiled again. Even brighter. Even more genuine.

“What are you laughing at?” he said, though his eyes were teasing, “Because I know it isn’t me. I’m too fabulous.”

Tolys couldn’t help but nod, at a loss for breath. After another moment, he tried to regain some sort of neutrality to his expression, but it was all too easy to fail, and he succumbed to such a will.

“You were,” he conceded, “And you’re also dripping wet. You’re going to need fresh clothes.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re so close.”

“Yeah.”

The silence was awkward, but not unpleasant. Hundreds of years meant Tolys knew more about Feliks than Feliks himself, but it brought little to converse on. That, and, this was the first true conversation he’d had in a while with Feliks. They weren’t tense with each other now, per se...but...after everything, it hadn’t felt right.

But for some reason, now, Tolys couldn’t fathom not trying to repair their broken relationship. Not romantically of course. Feliks would never take him back. Too much had happened.

But maybe. Friends.

Tolys refused to believe even in the chance of more.

Feliks reached for Tolys’ hand, soft, cold hand squeezing his own. A question. Simple, but still enough--_is this okay?_

Tolys tightened his grip around Feliks hand, knowing his message had been delivered. They reached the hotel in such a fashion, hand in hand, both looking anywhere but at each other and not speaking, yet still smiling softly to themselves and linked. It felt true to them. Constantly connected, even when they denied it.

Tolys realized, for the first time since he’d left that dreaded three hour long meeting, that his head had stopped hurting. All the negative, pent up emotions had faded, replaced with ones of happiness and love.

Momentarily, he’d forgotten everything. Perhaps not everything logically, he could never forget on a conscious level, but emotionally, he felt the rift between them close, he’d lost all that dreaded unease and regret and guilt and leftover indignance.

Everything negative, everything left over from their past.

It was not solved. But he knew--Tolys knew--that maybe, just maybe, Feliks would be willing to try again. To be more than friends. To overcome the pasts they’d faced.

Tolys hadn’t thought he’d be haunted by the desire to do so. He’d never thought that maybe, just maybe, he and Feliks could—would want to—work it out.

But still, with the possibility in mind, and caught up in memories of rye and horseback riding, Tolys knew that maybe it was impossible to move on. Maybe it was impossible not to want for what they used to have—not the commonwealth, but the easygoing and free relationship the two had. A chance to love each other so completely again.

So before they separated, Tolys turned back to him, looking at Feliks sparkling green eyes, filled with emotions and feelings that he could read so well, and he took in the sight of Feliks, in his entirety, dripping wet but still intensely vibrant.

“We have a lot to catch up on,” Tolys started, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, “A lot that we need to discuss. But I want to try. Again. With you. Um, would you be averse to coffee tomorrow? During the lunch break?”

The words sounded worse out loud, but Feliks seemed to find them endearing, or at least Tolys assumed so from the fondness in his eyes and the way he tilted his head. Almost imperceptibly, he felt Feliks squeeze his hands, just the tiniest bit tighter.

“Not at all,” Feliks said, “I have been waiting forever for you to just ask, already. And yes, I agree, we do need to talk...I want to say sorry. But not yet. Tomorrow. I--um,”

Feliks’ confidence shattered the more he spoke, voice growing softer and cheeks growing steadily more flushed. He tore his hand away after a moment.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. And--Tolys, I mean it when I say I want this to work.”

Tolys nodded, feeling some of his own nervousness build up.

“I feel the same.”

Tomorrow was the time for talk. Tolys knew they needed a moment more secure, more ready, for the two of them to begin to repair. Not dripping wet in front of an elevator, within the lobby of a crappy hotel. Perhaps after the coffee. Perhaps during, in low voices, so that no one would hear. No matter what, Tolys knew they both had things to say.

Yet still, he was hopeful.

There was a chance. A chance to maybe, not forget, but forgive the last century.

A chance to love again.

**Author's Note:**

> Lithuania and Poland’s history is tense, to say the least, but I love the ship so much and needed to write something with these two. However, I know the pairings got a lot of fluff, or at least this happy devoted love with no problems sort of thing going on. I wanted to write something that acknowledges that past they had, and shows that they still love each other, and that allows them to repair their relationship. Also, I saw a prompt about your OTP and the rain, so I took it and ran with it.


End file.
